


One Dream, One Mind, One Soul

by ColourlessZero



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Drugs, Dystopia, Gambling, I swear there's smut in this, It's just taking a while to get there, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn With Plot, Prostitution, Underground Fight Club, lots of smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 16:01:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7647499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColourlessZero/pseuds/ColourlessZero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iwaizumi disappears without a trace, without a word. Caught between all-seeing glass eyes and smoke made of dreams he drowns in the thrill of fighting in the ring for fun, pleasure and excitement. Not for any righteous or noble cause. Because what can he change? Nothing. So he might as well enjoy himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Iwaizumi

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dragona15](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragona15/gifts).



> First, a few things =D  
> This fic wouldn't happen at all without Dragona15 OAO ARGH FRIEND, YOU INSPIRE ME SO MUCH
> 
> Anyway, please take note of the tags and warnings attached to this fic. More tags will be added as the fic goes on. As always, I'll put in warnings at the beginning of chapters where necessary. Don't worry, I'll warn everyone about the non-con. Aside from that one instance everything else is consensual.
> 
> The great news is this fic will see regular updates since the chapters are shorter V^^V I haven't decided on a specific day yet, but it will be updated once a week.

Slinking between narrow alleyways, where if he looks up he will see only a thin crack of sky, Iwaizumi materialises out of the shadows. Just out on the street factory workers mindlessly shuffle towards their respective factories like they do every morning at 0700. Iwaizumi slips on an identical neutral expression to the rest of them and copies their almost mechanical gait. The factory workers wear the same tattered clothes as him in faded brown, beige, taupe and grey. Not the most fashionable crowd in the world off to work under designer brands. Making all the right faces and wearing the right colours he effortlessly merges with them, invisible in a sea of empty faces and equally empty minds. This is the way things are.  _ A place for everyone and everyone in their place _ , Iwaizumi has always hated that mantra.

This particular district is filled to the brim with all sorts of factories. Electronics, clothes, vehicles-you name it. The low rumble of machinery churning inside them create a constant vibration beneath Iwaizumi’s feet. Countless metal spires sandwiched together pierce the off-white sky, injecting it with black, white and grey smoke. A high production area, but also one of the poorest. 

Iwaizumi coughs into his moth-eaten scarf and his eyes water. If he didn't know scent has a texture he certainly does now. The air is permeated with a coarse smell like burned plastic and sharp ammonia singeing his nostrils. 

Streams of people detach to make their way to their respective factories. Iwaizumi keeps walking forward and the barrage of people earlier that morning becomes a trickle of few individuals. The last of them step into a car factory and Iwaizumi is alone. His footsteps are quiet and muffled compared to the loud metallic clanging of what Iwaizumi imagined to be monstrous gears and precision lasers welding metal together. He can only imagine seeing as he’s never been in a factory in his life.

He continues past the last factory, determination simmering like a fever just beneath his empty face. 

When aluminium cans crunch under his shoes he knows he’s reached the slums. He gingerly avoids sewerage leaking everywhere, staining the ground in unpleasant shades of brown and yellow. The colour may be unpleasant, but the smell is worse than the pollution spilling out of the factories. It’s tainted with disease. A literal cloud of flies are whizzing about an unidentified lump nearby. Iwaizumi has a fair idea of what it might be, but he feels no curiosity to make certain of it. He doesn’t want to be right.

At the very end of the slum is a squalid hovel slightly better than the rest. A little less rusty, a little bigger. Iwaizumi makes three quick taps on what he guesses is the entrance. 

The section of corrugated steel he tapped on swings open with a grating screech. Inside is a small, gaunt man hunched over on a chair so old its feet were black with grime and covered in splinters. His skin sags with age and exhaustion. Lifeless eyes peer at Iwaizumi from beneath bushy eyebrows. 

Iwaizumi dips his head down in respect, “Washijou?”

“That’s me,” Washijou answers gruffly, eyes blinking slowly. 

“One-way ticket, please.” Iwaizumi pulls out a few hundred yuans and presents them to the man with a slight bow. 

“Well, aren't you a polite young man.” The man’s tone holds no trace of friendliness, just tired apathy.

Washijou turns to look wearily at the glass eye in the corner of his hovel.

Iwaizumi follows his gaze and feels anger flare up inside him before smothering it with caution, almost afraid that the glass eye might see that fire in him. It's just like the one in his own home. A transparent sphere housing clusters of smaller, metallic black and blue sensors like some kind of messed up manmade fruit. They're always watching. Incinerating every bit of hope Iwaizumi can possibly have with their ever-present gaze. Cold bitterness chills him to the bone. His mouth presses into a hard line.

“Are you sure you want just the one ticket?” Washijou turns his tired eyes back to Iwaizumi. “ _ That _ place is a strange place with stranger people. It has its ways to trap young men like you.”

Iwaizumi glares into the glass eye like it will melt whoever is looking on the other end. To hell with it all. “I'm not coming back. What's the point?”

“What's the point,” Washijou rolls the words around in his mouth, his skin sagging more than ever. “I'm not sure if there is a point to anything.” He hands Iwaizumi a ticket without another word. 

Iwaizumi leaves the hovel and beyond the edges of the slum. Out here everything’s covered in a thin layer of soot. He can’t see it, but from an aerial view there’s a wide circle of bare, parched land. On its edge is a tall wire-mesh fence thrumming with electricity. That stops people from crossing into the forest where those stupid glass eyes can’t go.

Waiting for the shuttle Iwaizumi hears crickets and birds inside the forest. Leaves whispering in the wind. For a while he listens to their song and wonders what they sing about. Are they happy out there?

In a moment all the birds lift off at once and scatter elsewhere, a cloud of tiny specks frantically escaping whatever it is that startled them. 

The burning air lashes itself around the parched earth, tearing at Iwaizumi’s stolen clothes. He hides his face in his scarf and braces himself against the heated wind. A rickety shuttle groaning with age shoots out of the sky above and lands none too lightly before Iwaizumi in a large cloud of dust billowing outwards. 

Spluttering and rubbing sand out of his eyes he hopes he’ll be doing less coughing soon. 

Eventually the dust settles after that brief haze of heat evaporates. Looking around for some sort of sign Iwaizumi isn’t sure if he's supposed to do anything to get on. The thin and papery ticket he just bought crumples in his hand. No one seems to be coming out to collect the ticket. Sweating a little, he really needs to get in before it lifts off. 

Cautiously approaching the large hunk of metal Iwaizumi tries to search quickly but thoroughly about a seam on the shuttle that must open to become a ramp. Is there a scanner somewhere? Maybe a slot? 

The shuttle begins to creak and rumble. 

Iwaizumi freezes, his eyes growing wide. “Fuck!” He's running out of time.

Frustrated, he slaps the ticket onto the seam and tries to jam it in. Nothing’s working and he’s running out of ideas. He starts beating his fist against the ramp, “Open up, you piece of shit!”

The seam sucks up the ticket with a slurp. A strange ripple runs across the shuttle’s metal paneling before the ramp unfolds, its hinges screeching. 

Iwaizumi stares, mouth agape. He can’t believe screaming and brute force actually worked. With a start he leaps out of the way as the ramp unfolds rather ungracefully. The ramp crashes into the ground with another little puff of dust. Wasting no time he rushes to the nearest seat and straps himself in.

The ramp folds up again, sealing itself shut with a stuttered hiss. Inside the shuttle it's the same dull grey metal as it is on the outside. There aren't many seats. Only three rows of five. The lights cast a sickly green glow on everything. Iwaizumi squints up at them. On closer inspection there's a thin film of algae growing on the lights. 

_ When was the last time this shuttle was inspected?  _ Before Iwaizumi can think too much on it his heart leaps out of his throat. His seat suddenly stutters and tilts backwards until the back of the seat is flush with the floor. 

He forces himself to relax. They must be lifting off soon. He's read about it before. The seats are supposed to do that since lying down on your back puts less strain on your body when the extra g-force hits. Closing his eyes he thinks to himself,  _ Everything will be fine. I've thought of this a million times. I should be able to do this. I’m the ace. _

The shuttle rattles around him in a deafening roar. The floor heats right up and his seat becomes uncomfortably hot, just below burning. He tries not to think about the algae on the lights or how old the shuttle is and fails miserably. Nails digging painfully into his palms, his knuckles are stark white,  _ Don’t panic. _

Gravity and acceleration pins him to the chair he strapped himself in. It feels like a thousand lead blocks are tethered to every joint, yanking him back, pulling at his body in a way he never anticipated. Everything clatters around him louder and louder. 

_The_ _shuttle is falling apart,_ he panics and struggles against the force holding him down. He screams, but he can't hear himself. All he can think of is precious oxygen sucked into the vacuum of space with him suffocating helplessly in dull green light.

When he was little his parents called that place “where little boys and girls go to die.” They said, “Never go inside the circle,” and “Never board the shuttle.” 

He’s not a little boy anymore, but he went inside the circle. 

And then boarded the death trap.

This is it. This is the end. He played right into their hands. He now knows for certain that place is just a lure to get rid of people like him. Kill them off quickly in a shuttle threatening to explode.

For a moment he regrets everything. He regrets not telling Oikawa or at least saying goodbye to his friends. Now he's hurtling into space, doomed to suffocate in zero gravity.

Just as Iwaizumi accepts his imminent death, the extreme force crushing him into his seat vanishes entirely, taking away with it his weight. He feels like he's made of air and he expects the worst. He’s probably dead already. 

The shuttle stops shaking and the intercom crackles to life with a friendly voice, “Good afternoon, this is your pilot Narita speaking. Unfortunately our communications never work on Mars for obvious reasons.” Narita chuckles at his own joke. “I assure you flight CN-001 is an old but trustworthy ship. So please don't panic if she makes any rattling noises. Think of it as a cat’s purr! We expect to land at 0500 Crow Time. Please relax and enjoy the flight.”

All the adrenaline drips away. Iwaizumi looks down at his trembling hand, opening and closing it, touching the tips of his fingers together. The callouses on his fingertips are rough and hard. Alive and very real. He inhales deeply just to feel air flowing in his chest. His neutral mask falls and a small smile tugs at his lips as his eyes slide shut.

For the first time in his life Iwaizumi feels like he can be free.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's hope our favourite Iwa-chan likes his new home! Let me know what you think OAO Comments and feedback make me happy. Don't forget to kudos if you like what you see~


	2. Oikawa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa writhes with panic while wearing a perfect mask of calm confidence.

The sky bullet Oikawa boards every morning weaves between skyscrapers rising from cultured urban forests like a silver worm. He stares out the seamless window running along the entire length of the bullet to see others zipping along a tangle of serpentine paths he doesn’t understand. All he knows is that the sky bullets arrive and depart perfectly to take you wherever you need to be. Absentmindedly he thinks, _I don’t think one has ever crashed before_ , and wonders why that might be.

Far below him lies the city centre, a colossal geodesic dome glittering in the sunlight growing bigger and bigger as the sky bullet descends. The dome’s triangular glass panels cast shattered rainbows all over sleek buildings with special tiles rippling across them. Changing shapes, angles and even colour according to temperature and weather.

The bullet slides through one of the dome’s glass panels on ground level to slot perfectly into an inset made in the ground. The ceiling of the bullet opens up like a box and the walls slide down to be stored in a paper thin compartment hidden in the floor. The passengers disembark to stand in the city centre and the bullet waits on standby for its next batch of passengers.

A little lost, Oikawa is the last to step off the bullet. “Lost” seems to be all he feels lately. Whether it be lost in thought, lost in swathes of information or lost in the stars sprinkled across the night sky.

Shaking his head with the smallest of movements, flinging away uneasiness from his body, he joins the sea of people already packed in the dome.

He walks with a perfect Martian strut that betrays none of his unease. Long, smooth and elegant strides suggestive of a panther king ruling the very top of the food chain. Back straight and broad shoulders, head held high he is the embodiment of Martian supremacy.

It’s the Martian way. There’s only one way to do everything: Perfectly.

When he was a little boy with his head in the clouds his parents told him, “You are special. You are strong. You alone can change the world. That's why, Tooru, you must strive to be the very best.”

He was always confused with their suddenly serious tone, but he always answered earnestly, “I will, I promise!” And they would go back to finishing his favourite story about aliens, secret treasures and space pirates.

Older now, he understands every parent tells their child the same thing. All hoping that their child can change the future and build a world that they couldn’t create for their children.

That’s why Oikawa has to be perfect and why he’s so stressed.

Because there _is_ someone who can change everything, _Iwa-chan, where are you?_

“Morning, Oikawa.” Rose gold hair shimmering, Hanamaki waved, limbs moving with all the grace of a powerful waterfall. Matsukawa trails a step behind him, bundled in black and purple scarves sporting a runny nose and red, puffy eyes.

Oikawa's face lights up with a hopeful smile, “Makki! Anything new happen?” He assumes a deceptively casual stance while anxiety contorted inside him.

Naturally charming, many people are drawn to Hanamaki. Willing to spill even the most sensitive of information to him. It's because he can't hide anything so they think they can trust him. They're not wrong. He must have found something.

Hanamaki lazily leans against Matsukawa and turns to him with a smirk, “Nothing but good news. I told you he would win. I voted for the right one.”

 _Nothing,_ Oikawa’s heart sinks. The only lead they have are only whispers in the production district about the Ace appearing on its fringes. Everything after that is radio silence. 

The fact that they all voted for the same person is little consolation though. Nothing changed.

Eyes watering, Matsukawa sneezes into his hands. The sound is rather impressive, much like a sonic boom. Everyone within a three meter radius jumps up in fright. “Oh god, I'm very sorry.” Matsukawa sounds close to tears, but that might be his cold.

Oikawa desperately prays it's his cold. Matsukawa has access to the most data out of all of them and he knows best how to sneak around systems. If he can't find anything then no one can.

As Matsukawa lifts his hands from his face with a loud sniff and gloves covered in snot, Oikawa watches his thumb draw a subtle “x” on his cheek.

Iwaizumi has been deleted. Every record incinerated. Vapourised. _Terminated._

Finding nothing is one thing. But to be  _deleted_ , to be  _erased_? This is the most horrible information they can possibly find. Just one step short of finding Iwaizumi's dead body. For the past week he dreaded going to work. Afraid that he will come across Iwaizumi's dead body waiting for him on his autopsy table. Now  _this_. Fear and rage simmers beneath his calm facade,  _He didn't do anything wrong! Why did they delete him? The world is broken._

Hanamaki’s smile falters, quickly covering it with a look of concern. He rubbed soothing circles into Matsukawa’s back, “You should probably stay home, Mattsun.” Hanamaki has never been good at hiding his emotions. The glass eyes never catch him though, since Hanamaki has learned to mask what needs to be hidden away with a mixture of sincerity and half-truths.

In comparison Oikawa is a perfect liar. Sincerity and truth are things he can discard if it meant achieving a gentler, more honest world for his daughter.

Pointing at the gross mess Matsukawa made in his gloves, Oikawa laughs for the glass eyes just as a matrix of light shimmers across the dome’s triangular panels.

Needles of light converge and turn into a large 10, beginning the countdown.

5...4...3...2...1...

A hologram projection of their new president materialises in the air above them all, dominating the geodesic sky. His deep, rich baritone voice vibrates around them, _“A place for everyone and everyone in their place!”_

But Iwaizumi isn't in his place by Oikawa's side as he should be.

Oikawa claps and cheers like everyone else, like Iwaizumi never existed.

And he despairs.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Argh, I love technology! Still, where are my flying cars?
> 
> Writing the scenery and tech for this chapter was the most fun. Definitely a sharp contrast to the place Iwa-chan was visting ^0^/ 
> 
> I think in the future architecture and transport will probably be more fluid. Adapting to suit our needs and the environment for the day. There will be greenery in cities, specially grown for the purpose. Maybe even developed species to effectively take care of pollution in urban areas. 
> 
> Leave a comment! Let me know what you think =D What do you think the future will be like?


	3. Bokuto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martian populace meets their new president.

It’s a beautiful day today in the forest beyond the reach of the slums. The sky is pretty. Not a single cloud in that light blue sky peeking in between the leaves. Bokuto likes the way light passes through them. Closing his eyes he enjoys the warmth of the sun on his face. The sounds of the wind whispering between trees and birds chirping to each other greet him. He can even hear the distant gurgling of a stream somewhere. 

It's been too long since he's been back on Mars. Out in space he usually has a visor over his face to filter out solar radiation and it's usually silent. He's not complaining. Space is pretty cool. But there's no place like home, right here on Mars with his head resting in Kuroo's lap. 

He grins up at Kuroo, who's weaving fingers through black and silver hair. 

Reaching up for Kuroo's collar he tugs insistently, pulling Kuroo down for an upside down kiss. He loves how Kuroo's rough hands gently tilt his head back to capture his mouth better. 

Bokuto's own hands never remain idle for long. He sweeps them across Kuroo's broad shoulders.  _ He's warm. Like sunshine.  _ Soon they end up in Kuroo's hair, messing it up even more. He pulls lightly and Kuroo makes a small noise deep in his throat.

Bokuto whines when Kuroo pulls away. They were just getting into it. He really wants to keep going. Maybe more than just touching and listening to the forest. They should go all out since there's no surveillance here! 

“I want you.” Bokuto tugs at Kuroo's shirt, trying to get him to come down again so he can get rid of that annoying uniform. 

“Bo, we can't stay out here too long. The eyes will wonder where we are.”

_ It's always about the glass eyes.  _

Bokuto remembers back in their cadet days when  _ Kuroo  _ was the one recklessly dragging him off to blind spots to crash their lips together while hands made themselves useful beneath clothes. It was a struggle to keep their breathing even and not to make any weird noises for the glass eyes to pick up on. 

Bokuto frowns.  _ What’s changed? Is he getting bored of me?  _ “Ok. We don't have to if you don't want to.”

“It's not that I don't want to!” Kuroo snaps. 

“Then why not?” Bokuto yells, more than a little upset. He sits up and twists around to demand an answer from Kuroo, “Why do you keep rejecting me?”  _ What am I doing wrong?  _

Kuroo digs his fingers into unruly black hair. A nervous habit he only shows when they're not being watched. “I'm sorry. It's just,” Kuroo hesitates, looking for words, “I want you to be safe.” Kuroo buries his face in his hand, the corners of his lips downturned. 

Seeing Kuroo like that makes his chest tighten. “I'm sorry I yelled at you.” 

Bokuto wants to say more than that. He wants to know why Kuroo doesn't laugh as much anymore and why he's making that face like something horrible is about to happen. 

He wants to tell Kuroo he loves him. 

“Kuroo, I-”

“What do you think of our new president?” Kuroo asks quietly. 

“The new president?”

_ “A place for everyone and everyone in their place!” Ushijima Wakatoshi emerged on the podium to greet his new subjects.  _

_ Bokuto stood to attention. A sharp salute beside Kuroo and all the other generals. They watched their new president from below.  _

_ Ushijima was a very large and imposing man, who would still tower above them even without standing on the podium. No movement was wasted and he had an oddly regal feeling about him. That’s no surprise, seeing as he came from a long line of politicians. Still, Bokuto didn’t like how proud and confident he looked. Ushijima’s chest was bare compared to theirs, devoid of all the badges they earned fighting for the Martian Peace Army. Bokuto didn’t know about the other generals, but he thought, “Why should I respect him? What has he done? He just happened to be born into a political family.” _

_ So Bokuto tuned him out and daydreamed instead.  _

_ The speech was long and boring and Bokuto forgot most of it. He spent most of his time fighting to stay awake. He swore he was about to sleep on his feet when suddenly his name was being called, “General Bokuto.” _

_ Look alive, Bokuto, he told himself. Ushijima was staring him down. _

_ Was he in trouble?  _

_ Ushijima continued, “The strength and pride of our Martian blood has time and time again pushed back rogue forces from our motherland.” _

_ He’s being praised! He couldn’t really tell at first because glaring seemed to be the only expression Ushijima knew how to make. Definitely not because he wasn’t paying attention in the first place. _

_ A hologram projection shimmered in the air. Bokuto recognised the scene instantly. The smell of burned flesh and screams of agony permanently engraved in his mind. The hologram played out the battle on an enemy spaceship exactly how he remembered it. Laser bullets criss-crossed all over the place. Over heads, under limbs,sometimes they sheared through bodies. Electric knives flashed in hands both organic and cybernetic. It was chaos. Androids, cyborgs and humans fell all around Bokuto as he rampaged with a deafening roar. He was scared out of his mind. He just wanted everything to stop so he could go home.  _

_ “But evil is persistent and we must aid our heroes in their fight for justice.” _

_ The fighting fades to black and a portrait of the traitor lights up in the projection. A young man with grey hair and a mole beneath his left eye. Sugawara Koushi was the name of sin. Just looking at him made rage course through Bokuto's veins. It's because of him they were fighting this war with AI gone rogue in the first place.  _

_ Someone nearby shattered a glass in their bare hands. The crowd below boiled over, angered screams filling up the capital to echo into the sky. Projections all along the sidelines showed citizens gathered in domes across the planet reacting with rage. “Kill the bastard!” they roared. “Tear him to pieces!” they screeched. “End this horrible war!” they demanded.  _

_ “We will defeat him with our strongest and find peace again! There will be no more war!” _

_ The camera panned to show the generals. All of them with the promise of retribution on their faces and badges glinting on their chests like shattered mosaics.  _

_ Ushijima made his promises and the masses believed in him. It was hard not to when Ushijima seemed so certain and every word exudes the strength every Martian wished they had. Bokuto found himself believing in Ushijima too as he roared his approval along with everyone else.  _

“I don’t think he knows what fun is. Do you think he knows how to smile?” 

Kuroo laughs at that. The kind that rumbles deep from his chest and makes his eyes tear up a little. It’s Bokuto’s favourite kind. He's missed it. 

Bokuto smiles, glad that Kuroo isn't frowning anymore. “I think we’ll be ok with Ushiwaka. I still wish your friend won though.” 

He can’t remember the man’s name. It’s quite a mouthful. From what he knows, there was a huge scandal about the whole thing. He disappeared shortly after the elections, but wasn’t erased. Probably for parents to tell their kids, “See this? You don’t want to be this guy.”

“Any sign of him?” 

Kuroo shakes his head. “No, but I can guess where he is. He's probably on Crow’s Nest if we can't pin him down here.”

At the mention of Crow's Nest, Mars' manmade satellite, Bokuto feels sad. He's heading back to fight on the frontlines tomorrow. 

“I don’t want to leave.”

“But you have to.”

“But I have to,” Bokuto murmurs. 

He doesn't say anything after that. He only holds Kuroo close to him, trying to make their time together last longer. 

The next morning Kuroo sees him off as he boards his command ship. 

He'll never forget Kuroo's sad, sad face. Bokuto silently promises himself to make Kuroo laugh next time he comes back. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry guys, didn't expect to be gone for so long! D: School had me busy because our assignments were due >.>
> 
> I was hoping to put out a double update, but the next chapter was getting long. So I want to spend more time to get it right for you guys ^w^ Things don't look that great on Mars. Next chapter our darling protagonist Iwa-chan will be back V^^V If you're wondering where the smut is, next chapter is where things get progressively filthier with every chapter.


	4. Iwaizumi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi has done a lot of research on Crow's Nest. Most of it matches up to what he's read but some little things don't match up to what he expects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry guys. This update took way too long and my god. This is actually a third of what I originally planned to post of this chapter. It got too long so I'm splitting it into three so I can update faster. Hopefully you guys are still following the story

“Take a look outside, Iwaizumi-san,” Narita’s friendly voice pipes up from the intercom.

With nothing better to do Iwaizumi carefully stretches out of his seat. His legs feel restless from sitting still for so long. In all honesty he feels a little queasy from the flight, though he’s not surprised about it. 

Along one side of the shuttle are a few small, round windows. He tries to find the cleanest one, but they’re all covered with a thin layer of the same green algae on the lights. Scrubbing away at one with his sleeve he makes a clean patch and no amount of research can prepare him for the sight that greeted him.

There’s an impressive amount of stars scattered across the inky blackness of space, but that’s not what caught his attention. Looming closer towards them is a perfect sphere gleaming a dull, gunmetal grey. Mars’ man-made satellite is engineered so well Iwaizumi can’t even make out the seams where one section joins with another. From what he knows it’s roughly the size of Earth’s moon before it shattered alongside Earth to create the Second Asteroid Belt.

He probably shouldn’t but he places his palm flat on the window anyway. It’s so close he can almost touch it. This is the Crow’s Nest. He can’t quite believe he’s finally going to be there. No more glass eyes, no more struggling or pretending–a place where he can breathe.

As the shuttle nears Crow’s Nest Iwaizumi feels a slight tug in his bones. They’re being held in the satellite’s artificial orbit. From its smooth surface what looks like a metal straw reaches out towards them. The straw sucks them in with a slurp and a series of metallic clicks run all along the outside of the shuttle. Slowly, they’re being drawn inside Crow’s Nest.

The shuttle stops whirring and powers down, leaving just the lights on. It’s then that Narita joins him and Iwaizumi is finally able to meet the man himself. He’s a tall man with a wiry build and hair shaved close to his head. If it isn’t for how open and bright his face is Iwaizumi would have mistaken him for a military man. 

Narita eases himself next to Iwaizumi by the window and does a few stretches. No doubt feeling the effects of staying still for so long. He asks Iwaizumi gently, “How are you feeling? The first time is never easy on these flights.”

“I’m feeling much better now, thank you.” Iwaizumi replies quickly. His face flushes at the memory of liftoff. He remembers screaming and shaking a lot. Probably not the best first impression. 

There’s a comfortable silence for a while with Iwaizumi watching lights inside the tunnel pass by while Narita continues his stretches. Finally, Iwaizumi gives in to his curiosity. “Is it really true? What they say about Crow’s Nest?”

When Narita meets his eyes he knows the pilot has been asked this question before. “That depends on what you heard. What do you want to know?”

Iwaizumi's heard lots of things. Everyone’s heard about drugs, prostitution and gambling. Those things are tame compared so some the  _ other _ things he’s heard. Human experiments, selling body parts both mechanical and organic, brainwashing cults, mass deaths–he can go on forever until it’s a muddled mess in his head.

Instead he asks the single most important question: “Are people really free on Crow’s Nest?”

Narita stops stretching and stands tall. There’s an aura of pride radiating around him. “Yes, we are.”

“What's the catch?”

“Nothing's perfect.” Narita smiles knowingly. “I'm sure you've heard about people selling organs from unsuspecting victims?”

Iwaizumi nods slowly, readying himself for the worst news imaginable. This is a place full of psychopaths and murderers, isn't it? 

“We do have things like that happening, things like in the rumours you’ve probably heard.” Narita pauses, seeming to gauge Iwaizumi’s reaction. Iwaizumi does nothing but listen intently and Narita continues, “But it's uncommon. Just like on Mars. The difference is that it's perfectly legal here to harvest and sell organs from anyone. What stops people from doing that is the fact that murder is also legal. So if your friend becomes a victim and you go take revenge you won't get arrested. The point is  _ everything  _ is legal since there aren’t any laws. That's how we stick together and govern ourselves on Crow’s Nest. If what you're doing isn't hurting anyone then everyone's happy to let you do whatever you want.”

“I see.”

That's a lot to take in even though Narita’s explanation is simple and to the point. Iwaizumi has never had or even dreamed of having this kind of freedom before. A place with absolutely no laws...it sounds like a mistake waiting to happen. It’s what they learned in class about politics when he was younger. But is that the truth or a lie the higher ups on Mars want him to believe? 

Silence falls again as they descend deeper into the tunnel sucking them into Crow's Nest. With every metre Iwaizumi feels gravity tugging at him gently. The closest sensation he can compare it to is the feeling of air pressure changing in an elevator. Soon dim light fades in gradually and they touch the ground with a clink and a hiss. 

The door unfolds and the ramp violently slams into the ground. Iwaizumi jumps and claps his hands over his ears. 

Narita dips his head in embarrassment, “Sorry about that, we really need to get that ramp fixed.”

“We made it safely, that’s the important thing,” Iwaizumi reassures Narita.

Iwaizumi's first steps are an ungraceful stumble in a steel-grey landscape enclosed in the satellite’s artificial sky. 

Crow's Nest was originally a satellite built by the Chinese to house their military operations during World War IV. It had its own gravity generator, greenhouses for crops and oxygen as well as a highly sophisticated system for recycling water. Most impressive was the metallic shell enclosing the satellite. A true technological wonder, it doubles as a regulator for weather conditions as well as a broadcast system across the satellite. It was also made to replicate Earth’s sky to relieve homesickness. 

The sky Iwaizumi sees now is nothing like a normal sky. 

It's bright and dark at the same time. It's a psychedelic chaos of flashing colours and dying stars. People mill about on the streets like it doesn’t bother them at all, minding their own business.

A lady walks past wearing impossibly high heels and her sickly sweet synthetic perfume permeates the air, leaving a distinct trail in her wake. 

The very first thing he does is throw up all over the ground. He can't tell if it's the flight, the perfume, being inside what looks like a crazy disco ball or all three. 

Narita rushes to his side and rubs soothing circles into his back. “Are you ok?” 

Iwaizumi nods and straightens up. Not more than a second has passed when he’s doubled over vomiting some more. This is so embarrassing. 

Narita grimaces at the sky bursting with colour and light in between minute pauses of darkness. “Terushima always requests this kind of sky when he’s hosting a party. Come on, let's get you cleaned up.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time we see how Iwaizumi finds his feet in his new home~


	5. Iwaizumi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi goes on a mission. His greatest obstacle? Crossing the road.

“I'm very, very sorry for throwing up all over your ship,” says Iwaizumi for the hundredth time.

Narita grins and waves his hand. “It's fine, it's fine! You're probably the most polite passenger I've ever met.”

Narita’s friend, Kinoshita, pops back into the sitting room. He's a lanky man with sandy hair dressed in a simple kimono, much like the traditional Japanese inn he owned. The Kinoshita Inn is a small 

Patting his belly Kinoshita sets a hot cup of tea on the table in front of him. “For your stomach.”

Iwaizumi lifts the cup to his nose. If there's anything suspicious in it he doubts he'd be able to pick it up if they use the proper stuff here. Still, out of habit he smells it carefully and searches the surface thoroughly for any trace of powder. 

Steam rises up from the golden surface like a friendly spirit and the warm smell folds over his nose, kissing it with just a hint of moisture. The tea smells exactly the way a good cup of genmaicha should. Iwaizumi’s face softens at the nostalgic scent of freshly cooked rice. He remembers his childhood so clearly he can see it.

After a long day playing in the yard he’d come back inside when the sun had gone. He’d patter through the entryway on his muddy feet without a care in the world and the smell of his mother’s cooking would sing and dance towards him. His mother would always be at the rice cooker, her thick braid swishing back as she turned to smile at him. “Did you have fun today?” While they waited for his father to come home he’d show her all the insects he caught. Sometimes she screeched at his gifts because he caught cockroaches thinking they were something else. Together with his father they’d eat together and talk about their day. Before bed his father ruffled his hair and told him, “You worked hard today, Hajime. Keep making us proud.” His mother would chirp encouragingly, “You’ll become the very best, right? You’re going to change the world, right?” And Iwaizumi would always reply, “Of course! I’m going to be the ace!”

They always said it so casually Iwaizumi accepted it as a natural truth. Whether his parents intentionally fed him the will to get to the top specifically to change the way everyone was living Iwaizumi never found out. Nonetheless, his parents were the ones who made him into the ace he was today. He wanted to give them so much, to make their dreams come true. They were so close. At the last minute everything became impossible. All because of that stupid man’s mistake. 

He wishes for the days where he explored the forest and collected bugs all day. He wishes his parents were still around.

The idle chatter between Narita and Kinoshita comes to an abrupt halt. They wear identical expressions of concern. For a moment Iwaizumi thinks he sees the ghosts of his parents in them.

When he comes fully to his senses in the present moment there’s something cold on his face. He touches a finger to it and it comes away wet.  _ Ah, I see.  _ He dabs the cuffs of his sleeves at the corners of his eyes.

Breaking the tense atmosphere Narita snorts, “You make it sound like he's pregnant. Especially when you do this.” He rubs his stomach with tender affection. 

“Iwaizumi, if you get morning sickness tomorrow Narita will take responsibility.”

A pleasant itch tickles the back of his throat. Before he knows it he's laughing at their banter. It's a hoarse sound foreign to his ears. 

He hasn't properly laughed in a long time. It feels good. He hasn’t shed a tear in a long time either and that feels good too. Being free from those ever-present eyes is the best feeling of all.

Narita dusts off his pants and stands up to leave. “I have to head off now. I'm catching up with Ennoshita.” He tips his head at Kinoshita. “He wants to know if you'd be dropping by later?”

“I will after I'm done talking with Iwaizumi.”

Once Narita’s gone a calm silence settles between them and Iwaizumi finishes his tea. Kinoshita smiles kindly at him and reaches into his sleeve to retrieve some money. “Here's the 500 yuans you spent on your ticket. We always refund one-way tickets when we see one. Are you sure this is the place you want to live in?”

“Any place is better than Mars,” Iwaizumi admits freely with a shrug. He adds, “You guys seem to be aware of our problems.” While Martians know little about Crow’s Nest aside from a few select books and documents detailing the history of World War IV Narita and Kinoshita seem to know a lot more. Are they the norm or the exception?

“Life here is wildly different to Mars,  from what I've heard. I haven't been to Mars myself but I've welcomed every Martian to Crow’s Nest and they tell me about their homeland in return. If different is what you're looking for I think you'll be happy here. Freedom is probably the best thing we have and we treasure it.”

“But?” This must be the catch, Iwaizumi thinks. There’s no such thing as paradise. 

“But there are people who abuse that gift. Please pay attention to your surroundings and be safe. You are an easy target because you haven't found your footing yet. The best advice I can give you is to watch and imitate. Making some powerful friends wouldn’t hurt either.”

“How do I go about finding a job here?”

“ _ A place for everyone and everyone in their place.  _ That's the Martian motto, right?” 

Iwaizumi nods, unsure where this conversation is heading.

“Here, there's a job for everyone. In that sense we're not that different. Everyone can be useful, but only if they want to be. You can choose what you want to give. It's not always in yuans either. That's where we're different. Finding a job is kind of a foreign concept for us. You kind of just do whatever you want and name a price. If you know how to sell yourself someone's bound to be interested.” 

Kinoshita continues and reassures him, “I know 500 yuans isn't a lot, but it's a start. The first week is free at my inn with complimentary breakfast. After that it's 250 yuans per night.”

Iwaizumi glances outside for a moment. He’s feeling much better and now he sees an aurora flashing across a dark purple sky bursting with galaxies expanding and contracting. “Powerful friends. Say, this Terushima who changes the sky, is he powerful?”

“Terushima?” Kinoshita laughs. “He’s a wild party animal, but yes. He’s powerful in his own way. Aiming big, huh, Iwaizumi-san?”

“I like a challenge.”

“It’s easy to be friends with Terushima to be honest. He’s a bit flighty though. He owns the biggest gambling business around and a couple of brothels in the pleasure district. There’s no way you can miss it. It’s bright yellow and he likes to have lightning twisted around the tops of his buildings. A waste of electricity, but I have to admit it does look impressive.”

With that Iwaizumi begins on his hunt for what sounds like an excited bumblebee. Kinoshita encourages him with a slap on the back and straightforward directions. “Just keep going straight from here until you hit this bridge and turn left. Keep going and there’s a forked road. Cross the road and follow along on the right. Good luck, Iwaizumi! I hope you win big.”

At least, they’re straightforward until Iwaizumi actually begins walking around.

Before when it was still dark the sight was absolutely dazzling. Now the sky has changed for morning the flashes of light and colour fades to a projection of a warm, blue sky complete with an artificial sun. The landscape below is a total mess.

Misshapen buildings splatter all over the place piled on top of each other. Some veer off on strange angles while others seem to ooze out between cracks. Going up for a closer look, Iwaizumi turns his head left and right before tentatively poking the dripping wall with a finger. It’s solid! He stares up at the liquid chrome wall in amazement. The light only makes it look like it’s melting. 

None of the buildings are quite the same colour either, though they’re all a variation of grey. One home is a warm grey with a coffee tinge and a pale, bluish grey the next. He notices people like to drape banners and streams of fabric on their homes. Since the environment is so controlled he guesses they’ll remain beautiful for a long time. Shades of grey clothed in peacock green chiffon, rich purple silk and burgundy velvet. 

Crow’s Nest is definitely different. Their buildings don’t change or react to the environment, but everything feels alive. It’s a new forest for Iwaizumi to explore. Mars on the other hand boasts of intelligent architecture molded for every possible need at any given moment. Every design is neatly categorised for every class of society. The difference is nobody can actually enjoy that elaborate cage.  

Forging on through odd architecture Iwaizumi hears the main road before he sees it. Loud honking and tooting ricocheting off every building. As he gets closer the din grows almost unbearably loud. There he encounters his first road and obstacle. If the buildings are crystallised chaos then the roads are liquid insanity. There doesn’t appear to be a set speed or any kind of road code. Just an endless, tangled stream of cars whooshing over the sleek black surface. They don’t have flying transport here since it’s dangerous to use them with the shell enclosing Crow’s Nest. So all traffic is concentrated on the ground.

Iwaizumi looks around and to his relief spots a few traffic lights. He can wait for them to turn green. Tapping his foot impatiently on the side of the road passersby start giving him strange looks. 

Iwaizumi smiles and greets them loudly over the noise, “Good morning!” 

He’s trying to be friendly, but his instincts are telling him something is very wrong. There’s something he’s not doing properly. What can it be? He’s doing everything a good pedestrian should, patiently waiting for his turn to cross the road.

The light finally switches green with a little walking man and that’s when it hits him. The traffic keeps going, ignoring the lights and the people around him cross whenever they please.

Iwaizumi shakes his head.  _ This is Crow’s Nest. What was I thinking? There aren’t any rules here, not even for safety. _

For the first time in his life Iwaizumi decides to jaywalk and nearly dies fifty times.

Confidently stepping onto the road like the other Crows Iwaizumi starts walking. He expects the traffic to maybe slow down a little but he completely freezes when a truck comes hurtling towards him tooting loudly. The sound is rough in his ears and the ground trembles at its approach. 

Someone yanks him off the road. “Careful there!” 

Gripping Iwaizumi's arm tightly is a man not much older than himself. Nondescript with a forgettable face and black hair parted neatly to the side. The man gestures at the never ending tangle of cars and people. “You want to get to the other side?”

“Yea.”

The man offers Iwaizumi a gloved hand. “Do you trust me?”

Iwaizumi doesn't really have a choice does he? He isn't naive enough to think a helpful stranger will automatically be trustworthy. He's probably going to get pickpocketed. 

All the same, he firmly takes the man's hand. 

Walking backwards into the traffic the man pulls Iwaizumi along. He let's go only to slide his hand onto the small of Iwaizumi's back, gently easing Iwaizumi into step beside him. 

They’re walking at a leisurely pace, but Iwaizumi is convinced they should be sprinting out of this crazy traffic. 

The man senses this, drawing Iwaizumi closer to him. He murmurs into Iwaizumi's ear, “Keep a constant pace and don't stop. The traffic will adjust and flow around you.”

The man is right. Traffic moves around them the way water flows around a rock.

“Watch and imitate, especially since you're alone. Anyone can tell you're fresh from Mars just by the way you breathe. People like you are easy pickings.”

The man disappears before Iwaizumi even realises they made it to the other side. Whipping around searching for the man in little groups of people clustered here and there he soon gives up. Even if he sees the man again he won't know. He can't remember much of his face. Any detail already becoming a vague, muddy memory. 

He slips off to the side of a pockmarked storefront where its deformed wall makes a private nook. Rummaging through his pockets he takes out his yuans.  _ Bastard!  _ Curses Iwaizumi. He's down to 250 yuans and a perfectly folded note that reads, “May you find happiness here, Martian stranger.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genmaicha is a favourite of mine. I really love that tea ^0^ If you like rice and teas with a nutty flavour to them you'd love this kind of tea. It's also known as the "people's tea" because it was a low class tea when Japan was experiencing poor times where rice was used as a substitute for a large portion of real tea leaves. Now it's enjoyed by all classes of society.


End file.
